The Last Time
by Cabriolean
Summary: John/Yassen slash.  Yassen is a minor.


Disclaimer: Don't own the characters and making no money off this (or anything else ).

The First Last Time

At 15 Yassen Gregorovich had already killed many times. He sat in front of the fire toying with a gun. The firelight played over it in beautiful shades of orange. John Rider emerged from his tent and sat next to him. He leant into John. Yassen knew what he had to in order to cement his place in John's life. He pressed more firmly against John, twisting to press their lips together.

It was John who pulled away first.

"I'm married."

"Yes. I know. Helen."

Yassen leans in again, John wants this. Maybe not for the same reasons, but it is enough. John pulls away, again.

"If Helen found out -"

"She would be furious, but John, she'll never know. I'm not going to tell her. You certainly won't."

Yassen wouldn't make John pick between them. He already knows who John will choose. Her. Helen. The woman he has never met but already hates. John wants both of them, and Yassen doesn't know how to say no. Doesn't want to, he would rather be John's whore, his little bit on the side, dirty little secret, than not be with John at all.

"I'm not expecting you to leave her. I'm not asking you to choose between us, you can have both."

John continues to mumble protests, but it isn't long before he is pulling at Yassen's shirt. John isn't thinking straight and he's taking advantage. But, he reminds himself, that's exactly what John has taught him to do. John looks at Yassen with serious brown eyes and Yassen knows that if he gets this question wrong that is it. Over. No second chances.

"How old are you?"

"20."

He doesn't think before answering, Scorpia have changed all of his records. It's hardly lying, for all intents and purposes he is 20. More importantly he can feel John's bare skin against his own. The act itself is, disappointing, awkward, painful, he wasn't sure what to expect from the coupling but it wasn't that. But having John here, all this is more than worth it. He is pleased when faking sleep results in John carrying him back to his tent.

Next morning, he is up before John, making breakfast. He has already dished it into two bowls by the time John emerges from his tent. He didn't expect John's apparent discomfort. Nor the way that John refused to look him in the eye. John clears his throat then speaks in a rather gentle tone.

"Did I hurt you last night?"

His voice indicated that he is expecting a positive answer.

"Not particularly."

"You didn't seem to enjoy it much."

"Next time will be better."

"It won't be happening again. That was the first and the last time."

Yassen didn't answer. John needed someone to understand, and for at least a week longer, Yassen was all he had. And John was all Yassen had, forever, he wouldn't let go of John that easily. They ate in near silence.

* * *

The 5th Last Time

Another man dead, John was nearly falling apart at the seams. Yassen lifted his blanket up, then slipped out from under it. It was a testimony to how tired John was that he didn't wake when a small, lithe form slid into his sleeping bag beside him. It took a couple gentle brief touches and Yassen's body pressed up against his own to get John Rider aroused.

Yassen stiffened when John ground their lower bodies together. He silently willed himself to get hard. This what he had wanted, he reminded himself, this was necessary. It wasn't comfortable, John's hips dug into him. When John was finished and lay atop him panting, Yassen felt better, more alive, John seemed to have lost his tension. But most importantly he had made sure that John needed him, not as much as Yassen needed John, but enough that he wouldn't leave him. John's fingers petted his hair, Yassen relaxed into the touch from the only one he could trust.

Soft kisses were pressed over his face. When Yassen was almost asleep again, John shifted slightly, then spoke, the words drifting over his skin in a cloud of warmth.

"Yassen."

"Mmh?"

"This is the last time."

It wouldn't be the last time. The words had become almost the equivalent of 'Goodnight' to Yassen. Permission to cling tight to John and go to sleep feeling safe.

* * *

The Last, Last Time

"Will you miss me?"

John's brown eyes were strangely serious. Yassen eyed him for a moment.

"I won't miss you because you're stuck with me."

The lack of amusement in John's gaze made his heart pause.

"Aren't you?"

It was quiet, not much more than a whisper. John rolled over without saying anything, but that had given Yassen his answer. He wrapped his arms around John and pressed tight against him. Almost reverently he slipped the first button through its hole. Then licked the exposed skin. John inhaled sharply.

"Twice in one night?"

"I'm going for gold."

It was less hurried than usual, he was careful as he undressed John. John was slow on top of him, treating him like something precious. It didn't hurt like it usually did.

"This is the last time."

Yassen didn't answer it with the normal knowing smirk. Instead he swallowed and looked John in the eye.

"I know."

* * *

At John's funeral he is stoic, doesn't cry, doesn't beg John to come back.

It is strange to have his own bed. Without John it is strangely cold, lonely. He clutches his pillow to him, but it doesn't hold him in return. He is 15 and all alone.


End file.
